


Cutting The Deck

by Oienel



Category: Korean Actor RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Theatre, F/M, Magic Tricks, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-11-12 11:15:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11160732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oienel/pseuds/Oienel
Summary: In which Jisoo tricks his way into your heart (pants?) with a completely normal deck of cards.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Will change the rating when rating changes. Because it will~

It’s out.

It’s out and you can’t do anything about it. You can feel horror dawning on you, as your limbs grow cold.

It feels like the whole room is still shaking, damned word still resonating between four walls. You can nearly feel the overbearing presence of witches and horrified screams of those, who perished before you, fill your ears.

You don’t need to look around to know that everybody is staring at you not even trying to conceal their horror. Your legs are wobbly, when you raise from your chair, breaking the perfect circle, your silhouette casting shadow on the old wooden parquet.  Your shadow is longer than those of your peers, it sticks out, it’s renounced by others for being concocted by a person that has just transgressed the bound of decency.

And you can’t even blame them. Whether it was a brief lapse in your judgment or heavens wrath channeled through your mouth – you don’t know, it doesn’t matter. You’ve committed grave sin against your community – the gravest one of them all.

“You know what to do?” It’s half question, half order. You nod, not having enough courage to look the speaker in the eyes. You don’t want to face their the disappointment.

Especially since it’s been only a week since you joined this particular club. Which means you saw this gathering, this room only twice.

And you allowed yourself to utter blasphemy.

“Wait, what?” You can hear confused exclamation to your far right, but you don’t bother turning around, and you just walk down the stage, to reach stairs. “Why are you kicking her out? She only said that Macbeth is…”

It’s an immediate pandemonium. Chairs are screeching, everybody turning to the speaker to shush him. The director drops her notes, and they scatter all over the circle, few of the sheets reaching your shoes. You stopped walking when you heard him utter The Scottish Play’s name, as you mistakenly did barely a minute ago, and you turned around in disbelief.

You can see lack of understanding in his eyes, you can see his eyebrows furrowing, and you can see how he looks around the room, not realizing what has he done. He shrugs, his jacket shimming, and he moves down to pick up one of the pages.

Once again you can feel yourself growing cold, and you just shout don’t thinking about it:

“Stop!” His hand stops a breath away from the page, and he looks up at you. You keep talking, as if you were talking to a wild animal.” Don’t touch it. Just. Leave. It.” He seems surprised, but as nobody is saying anything, opting for staring at him in bewilderment, he slowly straightens in his chair. He didn’t touch the page. You motion for him to come. “Come here. We have. To go. We have to go out. Now.”

Once again his eyes slide around the circle, but again nobody is speaking so he shrugs once again and stands up. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and looking indifferent walks to you, taking special care not to step on the pages.

“Step on the pages.” You snap. You didn’t think about it, it has just escaped you. He looks at you as if you were completely mad, but he says nothing and walks over the last few pages, his sneakers leaving dusty prints.

You exhale and turn around, searching for the stairs in dim light. You lead him out of the hall, into the hallway. You don’t say anything until you reach the sidewalk in front of the building. There you turn around, putting your hands on your hips in your fiercest pose and you wait for the other offender.

He looks reserved and cautious, stopping in front of you, but way out of your personal space, hands still stuffed defiantly in his pockets. He is taller than you, his oversized bomber jacket making him appear bigger and more threatening. His face is just scornful.

“Spin around.” You order with all the authority you can muster. He looks at you deftly, longer than it’s needed, and you school yourself for the fight, but he finally spins around – in a manner that reminds you of an adolescent that was made to do something he doesn’t want to do, his feet hitting pavement quickly, making him look like a penguin impersonator.

“Brush yourself off.” You say, and he brushes off his arms. He is still annoyed, but you can feel his curiosity raising.

“Say the name of The Scottish Play three times.”

“What?”

“Say the name of that play, you said inside, three times!” It’s a burst of annoyance, but it gets job done. He quickly repeats the name three times, and you focus on your own cleansing ritual. You turn around, brush your arms, and mutter the name three times under your nose.

Only then you can feel the pressure lifting.

You exhale and stretch, completely forgetting about the other offender.

“Now what?” He asks and you look at him, his hands back in his pockets.

You smile at him, for the first time and shrug.

“Now we wait.” You say looking around to find some place to sit on, there is no bench close enough, so you settle on the stairs. He moves to stand in front of you, but doesn’t sit down.

“Wait for what?” He presses.

“For the troupe to invite us back.” It’s such an obvious thing to you that you have problem understanding how he could not know that.

“Troupe? Ah, you mean to members of the club.” He states and you nod with indulgent smile like a teacher does when their pupil finally get something right. He shifts to put the weight on his other leg and speaks again. “So… What was it all about?”

You squint your eyes, but that’s only because now that he moved you are no longer protected from sun.

“You really know nothing about theater, do you?” You ask rhetorically, and mover forward to find shelter in his shadow. “Theater folk is the most superstitious bunch you could get. So if you want to live a peaceful life with them, remember few basic rules: never, under no circumstances say the name of The Scottish Play. Never whistle on the stage. Never wish luck before performance, say “break the leg” instead. Never turn off all the lights when leaving theatre. If script falls to the ground, step on the pages before picking them up.”

You count on your fingers, and when you finish you look up at him. He has his eyebrows raised, and you can see the perspiration just under his hairline.

“Woah… Ok, that is a lot.” You shrug. It’s not really. It’s basic if you’ve been in the industry long enough.

“Anyway, why did you join the club?” The fact that he wasn’t in the acting before is quite obvious. Everybody involved knows at least the  “The Scottish Play” thing.

“I just wanted to try, I guess? It’s probably my last opportunity to do so anyway.” Right. University. Last opportunity for many things.

“Good enough.” You comment and extend your hand.” Nice to meet you.”

He takes your hand, and his fingers are surprisingly cool considering the sweat appearing on his neck.

“Jisoo. Kim Jisoo.”

“Aren’t you hot, Kim Jisoo?” You ask matter-of-factly.

“Well, I _am_ hot, thanks for noticing.” You have to admit you are confused for a second. It takes you a moment, but when you see his playful smile you understand that you just got played. But you don’t get to clarify your line of thought, because they are calling for you.

*

“And now imagine the animal. Any animal.” Lights are dimmed yet again, director sitting on the audience, quietly talking to troupe. You are laying on the stage, ragdoll-like having shed your usual quirks and moves. You are ready to transform into another being. An animal. “Can you see it in your mind?”

You can. You can see small, but nimble animal. Standing back on its rear legs. You can see its pointy face, you can see black dots of eyes, and little whiskers.

“Can you see how it moves? Can you see whether it’s a predator or prey? Can you see whether it owns the place or slides into shadows not to be seen?”

Yes, you can see it. You can see how it runs, to stand abruptly, to sit up and scan its surroundings.

“Now that you can clearly see the animal, the power of your mind allows you to slowly mold your body. Can you feel it? Can you feel that your toes are no longer human? Move them, just like your animal would. Can you feel it? Then turn your feet, are they covered in scales or maybe fur?”

In your mind you are slowly shifting into animal, acquiring it’s moves, acquiring it quirks. Slowly, so slowly, your troupe starts moving, sitting up, every single one of you starts to acquaint themselves with the environment as an animal.

You are a fully shifted meerkat, and you are trying to get around elephant, when your director calls.

“Ok, guys, stop!” All the animals look at her, startled by a sudden sound. “Good job, but… Jisoo? Can you explain what are you doing?”

Jisoo.

You can all agree that he is quite _good_. If he gets a role to play he is believable. He has also quite good improv – so overall he should be doing good. But he is not. Because of his misplaced… You don’t even know what, but you can all say, that he is not giving it his all, and he finds half of the exercises stupid, and he just fools around, when the rest of the group is serious.

All the animals turn to Jisoo, and you see him still laying on the ground, on his stomach legs and arms splayed.

He doesn’t react.

“Jisoo?” Calls your director again, now clearly irritated.

There is a silence, and then really slow:

“Sloth.”

*

You are embarrassed to say, but during that accident meerkat sounded very like laughing human. That was the problem, the troupe was walking around irritated at Jisoo, and yet no one could really get mad at him. He was just… Jisoo. The funny guy. He is usually the last one to arrive (late more often than not), the first one to leave (usually skipping cleaning up), but when improv comes he is simply the best. Even though no one wants to admit that.

He has the best ideas, and he can pull the off.

And be so fucking annoying while he does that. One time he was supposed to play a shop owner, who was being asked for donations to support far right candidate for government  in one of the etudes, and he ended playing gay florist. Other time he was supposed to use any song’s lyrics to tell the story that was not connected to the lyrics in reality and he played pregnant women going into labor with Justin Bieber’s _Baby_. He could randomly decide to just start speaking in verse, and he would do it impeccably. Pissing the shit out of everybody, but he was _brilliant._

Perfect smart, but naughty boy, and that was a charm no one could refuse.

“Today we are choosing our play.” You find him sitting in the back row, shuffling a deck of cards. He looks up at you, cutting the deck with only one hand and you _are_ impressed.

“Which means?” He asks tossing cards from one hand to the other one. You stare at his hands, until he finishes.

“Show off.” You say not really answering his question, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He flashes you a big smile and fixes the deck. Once again your eyes fall to his hands, because they look really nice on those cards. Jisoo answers to not pronounced plea, and spins the first card on the deck in such a beautiful manner you can help but send him stinky eye. But even after that you can’t stop yourself from asking. “Do you know any tricks?”

“Not really.” He answers simply bending the deck with one hand. He slides down in his chair, spreading his legs slightly, in this clearly macho way and you immediately know he is full of shit. “But I know some magic.”

 _I bet you do_.

“Wanna see?” You look at the stage to check whether you still have time. It’s also quite unusual – Jisoo being here before it starts? But you are still in the clear, so you go further into the row, resting against armchair in the lower row to face him.

There is a triumphant air about him.

He shows you the deck.

“As you can see I have normal deck. Want to check if every card is different?” He asks quickly, spreading cards in his hands into nice fan, showing you different colors. Instant change that you see is amazing.

“I will believe you.” You say jokingly.

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” He says and spreads the cards once again, this time with their backs up. “Choose one – and, I am sure you know the rules, don’t show it to me but remember what it is.”

You smile and choose one, making sure not to flash him with the card. He does a whole show of not looking at you, and you got nine of spades.

“What now?”

He cuts a deck and makes you place your card on top of lower half. He then puts the other half on top, and your card is concealed in the deck.

He looks up at you, with this utterly playful expression on his face.

“So… let’s get to shuffle!” He starts shuffling cards around. Once, twice, you follow his fingers, not wanting to miss any part of the show. But you are also not the one to go easy.

“Can I shuffle?” You ask, and he stops, fixing the deck. He scrunches his face, but reluctantly hands you the deck.

“Well that could actually disturb my sorcery, but I think you are a quite good witch. Are you a witch?”

“Of course I am.” You answer and shuffle the deck. You are not nearly as skillful, but you do your job, while he stares at your hands. When you are done, you give it back to him.

“Ok, m’lady.” He says, and grabs your hand turning it up. “Let’s search for your card.”

“But you shouldn’t be searching for it…?” You tease, but he is already putting cards from the deck on your hand, one by one, face up.

“Oh, I know where it is, but I should make it worthwhile, right?” He says, and suddenly you see nine of spades on your hand. You are an actress, you’ve been practicing for a moment like that for years, so you don’t show it. Four of clubs lands on your card, and as of clubs as well. That’s when he stops. You look up, already feeling bad for him, but also quite happy with yourself.

“How about we really make it worthwhile?” He asks.

“You mean?” He smiles brightly, as if you’ve fallen into his trap.

“I am sure that next card I pick will be yours. If I am right, you’ll have to kiss me.” You wet your lips with your tongue, more to conceal your smile then anything. You can agree, but you can’t be too ready to do it – you don’t want him to realize that he _won’t_ get your card.

“That is harassment…” You muse, but he shakes his head.

“No, it’s not. It just a way for you to show appreciation for my magic.”

“You are quite confident.”

“Oh, I am hundred percent _sure_.” He says with a killer smile, and, _boy_ , does he have a prefect smile.

“Ok. I will.” You say, and ready yourself for what is about to come. You fully expect him to grab the card from the deck in his hand – but no. His fingers touch the nine of spades, still visible from under two other cards, and he fishes it out from your deck, and shows it to you.

“Is that… Your card?” His left eyebrow is perched high, and you are dumbfounded. But not dumbfounded enough not to realize that you’ve been played. You’ve fallen into his trap, without any, slightest even, suspicion.

You shake your head, but you laugh.

“Does it always work?” You ask, quite sure that you are not the first girl that has fallen for that.

“Every single time.” He answers bashfully, and gathers the deck and taps his lower lip with a finger. You give him a stinky eye, but deal is a deal, and you are not the one to back out. So you lean forward, pecking his lips. When you straighten he is sitting with this blissful expression and eye closed.

“Nice.” He says. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

“Because that’s the thing you should tell girl after being kissed.”

“I know right?”

“Everybody! Let’s start, we have so much to do today!” Director’s call brings you back to reality.

And to think that Jisoo was the one that managed to get you away from it.

If you were a synesthete, you’d say that you could hear Jisoo smile behind you, as you were walking down to join the rest of the troupe on the stage.


	2. Chapter 2

“Arthur, back on the stage!” You can see Jisoo rolling his eyes from across the stage, right where he is hidden behind the curtain, but he obediently appears on the stage. “Ok, let’s start again from Alice’s waking up. Alice?”

You nod, trying not to laugh at Jisoo, who scowls every time your director refers to someone by the name of their character in the play. You go back to your armchair, and fold yourself in the fetal position as girl playing Eleonora throws clothes on top of you.

You have to admit that is a role of your life. Through most of the first act you play a pile of laundry, hoping that no one will sit on you.

Your whole body hurts. You are not even sure how long have you stayed in this position today, but it’s been hours. You listen to rustling and other sounds that are a tale telling sings of what is happening on the stage. Meaning that you are listening to rest of troupe reaching their respective places.

“Ok, guys – Stomil, whenever you are ready!” You can see Jisoo rolling his eyes in your mind, when guy playing Stomil grunts in answer.

You move your toes, wishing for your legs to bear it and not to get a cramp. In the beginning the position you are in was quite comfortable. Well, it’s fetal position, hard to search for something more natural than that. In the beginning you sometimes had problems staying awake through the whole first act – meaning that you’d missed your cue for “waking up”, because you were literally sleeping. But after a while you started to dread your place on the armchair and restless minutes you spent waiting for magic words to sound.

Suddenly you hear a loud crash, and a long whine. An echo of whines answers, along with rushed steps, and you recognize your director’s voice, so you decide it’s safe enough for you to take a quick glance from under the covers. But you still try not to move around too much, just enough to lift clothes, so you can see. The massive table that you use as a catafalque is laying on its side,  one of the legs broken, and Stomil is clutching his feet, face red. Director is next to him, and the rest of the troupe sports varied looks – from concerned to mildly annoyed.

You understand that mild annoyance. It was really hard to find that table, and repairing it will be hard. And with Stomil injured it could stir a completely new set of problems.

Director turns around to the group.

“Wake up Alice, because she is probably sleeping under those covers.” Yours indignant _I am not!_ is greeted with scattered laughs, but director ignores it. “I will take Stomil to infirmary, and the rest of you can practice their lines as we are gone.”

You emerge from your armchair, and look as Stomil with director’s and Eleonora’s help make his way down the stage. He is really red. You scold yourself mentally for noting that, but it’s only thing you see. You stand idly, more because the whole thing put you off your tracks than out of concern.

When they are out of the aula, you turn around fully expecting that no one will be practicing their lines. And no one is. They managed to gather around clearly bored Jisoo, who has already fished the deck of cards. He is shuffling them effortlessly, trying to talk Eddy into betting against him.

True to Eddy’s character in the play, he agrees. You are slightly irked by that, but nonetheless you move to join the rest of the group. Thankfully they are betting one dollar.

Jisoo notices you and sends you a cheeky smile, before focusing on Eddy. He spreads the cards in nice fan.

“Ok, so choose one card. Yes, take it. Don’t show it to me! Remember what it is?” Eddy nods, and you look over his shoulder to check it as well. Seven of hearts. “Now, place it on top of the deck.”

Eddy does that, and everybody focuses on Jisoo’s hands, as he starts shuffling. He does it few times, and you check his face, only to see his full-of-himself face. He finally places it on the table next to him.

“Cut it.” He says to Eddy, who eyes him suspiciously and cuts the deck, dropping upper part next to the lower one. Jisoo arranges them one on top of the other, in a nice cross (the one that was lower now on top). “So you could have chosen any card you wanted, right? I didn’t see it. You could have cut the deck in any place you wanted, right?”

No one really nods, waiting for the grand finale. He grabs the upper part of the deck and shows it to Eddy.

“Is that… Your card?” Seven of hearts.

It felt effortless, not that elaborate as yours, but still awe-inducing. Eddy scoffs good-naturedly, and fishes for one dollar bill.

“Show us something else.” Pleads Gene, and Jisoo seems pleased with himself. The guy is so full of shit, but you still find this adorable.

“Ok, I think I can manage something else.” He says, and with one dollar bill he starts to search through his pockets. He doesn’t find what he is looking for, but he makes a quick pantomime by hitting his forehead – to show you that he remembered where the thing he is searching for is. He turns to Gene, and seemingly pulls out a pen from behind her ear.

“Is that it?” You ask surprising even yourself. But he is not taken aback – he looks more like readying himself for a challenge. He hands you both dollar and pen.

“Sign it.”

“What?”

“Just sign the dollar with your name.” You obediently put the dollar on your thigh to have something under it when you write down your name. He motions for you to show it to everybody so you do, and then you hand it back to him.

He folds it – once, twice, trice and then he puts it in his hand, and when he opens his fist – it’s not there.

“Is anyone up for a bet?” He asks, looking at you. You press your lips together, but you nod, knowing that by _anyone_ he meant _you_. “If the bill is where I tell you, you buy me a meal. If it’s not there – I am the one buying.”

Rest of the group seems excited, but you saw him win bet two times already, and one was over you. You know that when he bets, he wins, he is a magician _for fuck’s sake._ Why did you even agree? _Why do you agree?_   You ask yourself as you nod along.

“Ok, everybody saw that, right? Do I have you as my witnesses? Good.” He says, looking around the group. “So, are you ready? The bill… Is in your bra.”

_What._

You look at him quite deftly refusing to acknowledge what he just said. There are hoots on your left and you shoot a deathly stare to Eddy. He obviously doesn’t care. When you look back to Jisoo, he is looking at you expectantly.

“No.” You say sternly, not sure what you are against, but feeling how you are getting hot around the collar.

“Well, without your cooperation in this we won’t know who won, and our audience wouldn’t want that.” He says with a fake concern. ”If it helps, it’s probably on the left side.”

It doesn’t help. It doesn’t help at all. You are not going to be feeling yourself up, nor checking your bra in front of your troupe! And you have no idea how he could have done it, since he didn’t touch you, but can swear that you feel something pocking at your left breast.

Jisoo scowls a little.

“Look, one of us has to check, and if it’s not you…”

He doesn’t have to clarify, everybody gets the bit that he means himself, and his eyes are shining when he says that. You scoff at him, but reluctantly slide your hand into your bra searching for the bill.

“It’s not here.” You say, with a note of surprise in your voice.

“Really? So it must be on the right side then, sorry.” He says, and this time you are quicker to reach into your right cup. You search your bra thoroughly, fingers sliding deep from under your armpit to the middle part.

“It’s not here!” You repeat, this time annoyed.

He winks at you, and pulls a dollar bill out of his pocket, showing everybody your name written all over it.

“I know, I just wanted to see you feeling yourself up.” He says, seemingly oblivious to your murderous stare. “I guess I will be the one buying you dinner.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Can somebody wake up Gene?” Asks your director resigned. Today nothing goes as planned. _Nothing_. Eugene keeps messing his entrance, Eleonora keeps cutting Stomil off, Jisoo keeps getting distracted, you keep getting entangled in your clothes, and everybody keeps forgetting their lines. It’s just… Not your day.

Of course after rehearsal filled with mistakes your director is tired. And you are tired. The whole group is tired. But you have to admit that Gene falling asleep on the catafalque is a notch over the top.

Eddy wakes her up, and she bolts upright. You stifle a laugh, and you hear Eleonora masking her laughter with a cough.

“That’s it, guys, we are not going anywhere. Rest for today, and, please, get your shit together for next time. I _beg_ you.” You all stand at attention, but your director just shakes her head, and leaves the aula, without even looking back.

Well, yeah, you were _that_ horrible.

When doors close behind her back, you join the rest of the troupe and together you clean up the stage. After pushing everything out of the way (for band’s practice), you disappear backstage to take off your night gown. You actually borrowed it from your grandmother, and you were ready to fight anyone that ridiculed you for it.

Even thought you also thought it was hideous.

With gown nicely folded and hidden in your bag, you make your way outside, where no-longer-distracted Jisoo awaits. You wave to him, somehow knowing that you will not be parting your ways just now. True to your suspicions, he joins you on the stairs.

“Since we finished earlier, do you want to go out and grab something to eat?” He asks, stuffing his hands in pockets of his bomber jacket. He has yet to present his suit for the play, always playing in his usual clothes. Which also attributed to director’s annoyance.

But once again, no one could really tell him anything, not when faced with that boyish, disarming smile.

“Sure.” You say, suddenly remembering that he owes you a meal. And that bit reminding you of how you won that free meal. Your left boob itches.

You fold your arms over your chest, that feeling of annoyance you felt when he performed his _trick_ awakening anew. A second later you realize that Jisoo steals a glance at you and smirks.

Your hands drop to your side.

You don’t even know why are you trying to do everything to spite him, but you cannot help yourself. What is worse, Jisoo seems to be thoroughly enjoying that. He says nothing, but there is something in his aura, or the maybe the way he moves that tells you, that he is quite pleased with himself.

You end up in one of the restaurants in front of the campus, on the second floor, looking on the busy street below you. The atmosphere is nice, soft music playing in the background, lights dimmed, but not making it hard on the eyes. There is a plant on the table between you, and you keep touching its leaves, not really comfortable looking at Jisoo.

You don’t know why.

Maybe because you expected to find yourself in less _romantic_ place? He looks out of the place, among other guys with blue/pink collar shirts, and clutch bags. His shoulders in his bomber jacket look too big, too gruesome for this sophisticated place. You also don’t really fit in with your jeans and sneakers, but it’s not as striking as with Jisoo.

But he doesn’t look like he even realizes that. He is sitting straight, like he owns the place, looking around with the air of confidence.

“Wanna see a trick?” He asks suddenly, and you look up from the plant. He already has a deck of cards in his hand. You look around, not yet embarrassed, but still checking if people see you.

“Here?” You ask in disbelief, and he shrugs.

“Well, you seemed anxious so I wanted to cheer you up.” He says, cutting the deck with one hand, and it looks really awesome. And professional. “We need to wait for the food anyway.”

That is certainly true. And you have to admit that his tricks are entertaining. Even if you seem to be always getting the short stick in his magic. You look around once more.

“C’mon, it’s gonna be fun!”

And now you are sure that once again you are going to regret it. And once again you find yourself nodding, because you simply can’t say no to this guy.

“Ha!” He exhales, and moves forward. All of a sudden he is pushing a pen into your hand, and picks up first card from the deck and pushes it to you across the table. You stop it, and wait for the instructions. “Sign it.”

“Again?” It just escapes your mouth, but the smile you get in answer is just naughty. You can feel your ears burning, but you obediently sign the four of clubs you got. When you finish, Jisoo steals your pen, and you watch as he signs the next card from the deck, queen of hearts.

“Now?” You prompt, when pen is left on the table.

“Now,” he starts, taking your card and folding it twice, “we are going to do some magic.”

You kind of snicker at that, and he winks at you, clearly pleased with your reaction. He waves folded card in front of you.

“I need you to take it in your mouth.” Ok, if you weren’t really blushing a moment before, you are definitely red now. You eye his suspiciously, as he stretches his arm toward you, and he raises his eyebrows in answer.

You reluctantly open your mouth, still surprised that you are not really fighting it, and he puts the card in your mouth. You are a little too fast closing your mouth, and your lips graze his fingers.

That makes him stop, and he looks at his fingers for a second.

“Wow. I didn’t really believe that you’d allow me to put it in myself.” You immediately raise your hand as if you were about to hit you, once more embarrassed at yourself, but he only laughs, and folds his own card, and puts it in his mouth.

“Ok,” he says, and you are surprised how clearly he is talking with the card in his mouth, but you realize that it’s not really obstructing,” time for magic. But you need to help me.”

“How?” You ask, and true enough, your voice sounds normal. But it’s uncomfortable anyway, since you try not to salivate too much on the card.

“We need a ritual for the magic to do its work.” He starts, but doesn’t continue. You raise your eyebrows in a very clear question, and his answer is to tap his forefinger on his lips.

“Ha.” You exhale, not really surprised.

“C’mon, nothing will happen if we don’t.” He prompts, playful sparks in his eyes.

You shake your head. He still bends forward, lips pursing together, and it annoys the shit out of you, because he knows you’ll break. And you know it as well, so you move forward as well, and once again you peck him – turning both of you in a couple more fitting in this place.

“Great.” He murmurs, and you don’t know if he’s talking about the peck or the fact that magic is done, but he straightens in his seat. “Take the card out.”

So you do, observing him as he does the same. After a quick prompt you unfold it, and…

“… it’s your card.” You say, raising your eyes at him, and you notice that the card you signed is in his hand. “It’s your card!”

He smiles. It’s not the naughty one, it’s not the mischievous one, it’s not the shit-eating grin. It’s a nice, content smile.

“How did you do that!” You press, still awe-stricken. He shrugs, and moves to take the card out of your hands, but you shield it protectively. “No, I am keeping it.”

He laughs, but a moment later your food arrives.

You can’t stop yourself from staring at him as you eat. You don’t really know what changed, but that trick was both sexy and amazing, and you loved it. And you still can’t shake off your awe, and it seems to be projecting on him as well.

He doesn’t shy away from your stare – he meets you right on.

And it makes it even better.

He pays for the food, just as he should, and offers to walk you home.

“I was hoping that you’d show me more tricks with your deck.” You say, astounded with yourself, but focused on bringing it till the end.

“My deck?” He repeats, looking at you curiously, and pulling his cards out of his pocket.

However, your eyes, on the street full of people, in front of that really nice restaurant, drop for a barest second to his pants. Well, during your meal you decided that yes, you’d like that, thank you very much, but you didn’t thought that you’d be as daring.

“Oh.” He says, and for a moment you think that you misread the signs, as he hides his deck again.  “Well, yeah, I do know some more tricks. Or magic if you want.”

His face is completely straight, and you will yourself to match his tone.

“Magic is exactly what I am searching for.”

“Lovely.” He muses, and offers you his arm.” Would you be so kind to let me escort you to the… Nah, that doesn’t sound right.” He drops his gentleman-like voice in the middle of the sentence and goes back to his usual-rough self. You can’t help, but laugh.

“Yeah.” You agree scrunching your nose. “I like the bad-boy act more.”

“Of course you do.” He says, his offered arm stretching to fall on your shoulders. “And it’s not an act.”

“Sure, Jane.”

So you are walking together on the street and it quite lovely, until Jisoo turns in the middle of the street, his arm leaving your body. You turn right after him, only to realize that he is going in the direction – that you wouldn’t really like to go. You stop, and observe him astounded as he goes right to the doors of a place that can be only a strip club.

He stops right in front of a bodyguard and looks around at you.

“No?” He asks quite innocently.

“No!” You scoff, quite offended.

He laughs, good-naturedly, and you realize that he was pulling your leg. It annoys you, but you don’t even know how to react, so you hit his arm, as he comes back to you. It’s lame, it really is, and you feel it way more deeply as he laughs at you.

But even that makes you only enjoy his company more.

You have to admit, you like this kind of attention.

As it turns out, he lives in a two-bedroom rented flat. With a flatmate. Which you learn as soon as you enter his flat. Not because there are a lot of shoes at the entrance, nor because you can see lots of jackets on the hangers.

No.

You learn it, because Jisoo yells from the entrance:

“Juhyuk, out! I have company!”

To which a voice from down the hall answers:

“Yeah, right!” The disbelief is palpable, and you will yourself not to look at Jisoo, but you can see his ears growing a little red in your peripheral vision. You focus on taking your shoes of, as he kicks off his own and storms down the corridor.

“Dude! I am serious.”He says, before he clears the corner. An then: “put some fucking clothes on!”

You shyly follow him, noticing sure signs of only guys living in this place. Clean enough, but not up to usual standards. You can see kitchen right in front of you, with several pots needing washing, and some old cereal boxes to throw out, thirty-something empty beer bottles. Nothing you didn’t see before, and nothing that would happen at your place.

Finally you also clear the corner.

“As if you’d bring somebody here. Weren’t you pinning after that theater girl, anyways?”

Living room is also disheveled, with tall, quite lanky, half-naked undergrad, playing some kind of basketball game.

You do your best not to look at Jisoo.

_Are you the theater girl?_

“Um, hello?” You ask, and guy’s head snaps back. He sees you, and you can see the moment panics hits him.

“Oh, shit.” He says quietly, and sends Jisoo a stare that could be apologetic. “Shit.” He repeats, when he realizes that he is half-naked, and you avert your gaze as he searches for his pants and shirt (which Jisoo throws as him annoyed). “Dude, couldn’t you send a message or something?” He whispers while putting his clothes on.

You still pretend to be checking out their collection of pizza boxes.

“Would have you believed me?” Jisoo fires back, and you wish they had better communication system.

“Right.” Flatmate says. “Well, it was nice to meet you, and I am off, to drink to my best mate finally getting laid.” You don’t have to check to know that Jisoo is furious, but you laugh. Guy salutes you, now fully clothed, and happy to ruin this moment for Jisoo. He turns off the game, and goes out of the room, but he is back a moment later. “You are part of this theatre thingy, right?”

Before you can answer, Jisoo kicks him in the shin.

“Ouch!” You can see that guy wants to press the matter, but you can also see that Jisoo will kill him if he does. “Anyway, wear protection, and you know. Have fun!”

You stare at your feet, embarrassed and uncomfortable, until you hear the sound of front doors shutting.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry for him, it’s a long running joke between us, we always try to ruin each other lives…”

“Shut up.” You cut him off brusquely, and you can see that he is taken aback. You look around, deciding that he can take this little of ego bruising. Especially for what you have in mind. You look up at him. “I am not fucking here.”

There.

You named it.

He immediately forgets about your offense, and looks around as well.

“Right.” He says, and grabs your hand. He leads you into one of the rooms, presumably his own. It’s dark, because it’s already dark outside, and wall paint is dark as well. He clears his clothes of the bed, along with duvet. It all lands in a messy heap on the floor, and you both stare at it for a moment. Jisoo snaps his head up, and you know, you can feel that he is going to say something, that is completely unnecessary, and that would ruin the nice image of his you have in your mind.

So you grab the lapels of his jacket, and you bring him forward and you kiss him.

His lips are quite narrow, and not that plump – there is a firmness under your own lips, and you decide that you like it. The kiss is different from those two before – for starters this one is a _kiss_. This time you can feel his hands on you, this time you can feel his tongue, this time his cologne is embracing you, and yes, you like that very much.

“Who would have thought that you would pounce on me like this? Such a tiger!”

You stopped for a second to breath, and somehow he managed to form a phrase. And that’s the shit he decided to say. You stare at him blankly for a moment.

“What? Bad dirty talk?” He asks, but you can see that he is quite proud of himself. “Want me to try another line?”

“Just shut up.” You mutter, pushing his jacket of his shoulders. He shrugs it off without a word, but when you reach for his shirt, he has to open his mouth.

“So impatient! Undressing me so boldly? I am a good, innocent boy!”

Your hands drop to your sides – are you really sure you want to fuck with this guy. _Are you really sure._

He chooses this moment to push you on the bed. You bounce a little, and then he is kneeling on top of you, with his knees at your thighs, taking his shirt off.

There are some muscles, nothing overbearing, nothing really awe-inducing, but just nice chest.

“Unless we are talking about me without my clothes on – then I am a naughty beast.”

“Shut up.” You repeat, losing your hope that it isn’t his dirty talk. He kisses your throat, just below your jaw, his hand creeping under your shirt.

“But you do realize that magicians have to talk during their act, so the climax is even more surprising and magical?” He asks, rolling your shirt up. You decide to ignore his question, and you sit up, take the shirt off, take the bra off, and hook your arms behind his neck and bring him back down. You kiss him as you land, realizing that’s only way to keep him relatively silent.

It goes quite good, until your hands reach his zipper. He grabs your hands, and cries out.

“Wait! I am not ready, you can’t just expose me like that!”

“Oh my god, are you even serious?!” You exclaim, knowing that he was trying to rile you up. And that he managed to. “Is there a way to make you shut up and fuck me?”

He had an answer. He did for sure. But he didn’t expect you to phrase it like that, and you can see him scrambling for answer, suddenly way more frustrated.

“I think I can do that.” He says finally, throat constricted.

“Thank you.” You say pointedly, and before he can say something along the lines of you being polite in bed, you grab his mouth with your thumb and your forefinger. “For the love of god, no talking.”

His eyes laugh at you, but he says nothing, and enthusiastically goes to work.

And when he really focuses on work at hand, that’s when magic happens. He proves you that his fingers can do more than play with the cards, and when he nearly trips you over, he stops to finally, _fucking_ _finally,_ fuck you. You are holding him close, with one of your hands on his nape, the other one fisting the sheets, looking at his ceiling (with few suspicious stains), but what you see – is stars.

Not really, but you do see those weird colorful shapes that you get from looking at sun for too long. His body is radiating heat, his hair is thoroughly wet, and few strands keep tickling your cheek, but you can’t bring yourself to turn your head around. You focus on how your body feels, with one of his hands trapped under it, the other one on your hip, fingers digging into the skin. His thrusts are irregular, because his knees keep sliding on the sheets and he keeps losing his footing, but because of that that the friction has this one more level of deliciousness. You love it. You love it, because he fucks like he talks – like a madman.

And your orgasm is just like your reaction to his words – a sudden outburst of emotions, that just sweeps over you, taking control of your body, and turning your brain off.

He collapses on top of you, spent, and sweaty, and lifeless. But you prefer his deadweight on top of you to him talking. Which he does after rolling of you, throwing condom away, and spreading on the bed next to you.

“Missionary may not be the kinkiest out there, but still awesome if you do it right. And I am sure that you’d agree that I do it right.” He turns his head to you, in seek of confirmation and you roll your eyes.

“Just shut up.”

*

Today you are doing a scene when Arthur is shot dead by Eddy. You don’t like this scene. Not because you don’t like seeing Jisoo playing dead, but because you find it annoying to act out the misery.

Gene is quietly snoring on the catafalque, her character already dead in the play, Eddy shots Jisoo, and he falls to the ground quite dramatically. You know that director is going to scold him for that when you finish.

But nonetheless, you drop to your knees, and shake him – maybe a notch harder than necessary, but then again you can see him fighting with a smile. So he probably digs that.

“No! Arthur, no!” You shout, trying to put misery in that, your eyes getting wet, and you throw yourself all over “dead body”. It’s more to hide the fact that you don’t feel the misery, than to act it out. “No! No! No, no, no!”

It’s not easy. The misery. And it doesn’t help that Jisoo can’t stop taking a piss, for a _fucking_ second, and he whispers in your ear, as you pretend to be crying over his character.

One day you are going to strangle him. Preferably while fucking him.

“That’s not what you were shouting last time.”


End file.
